


Scabs and Scars

by menecio



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blanket Permission, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menecio/pseuds/menecio
Summary: “You can’t heal if you keep pulling off the scab.”
Relationships: Harry Potter & James Sirius Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	Scabs and Scars

“You can’t heal if you keep pulling off the scab.”

James Sirius Potter, aged five, looked up from his left shin where he had been picking at his latest gash. His Dad frowned down at him through his round glasses. A drop of blood trickled out from under the loosened scab, staining James’ pale little fingers. He pressed his hand against the wound, trying to hide the evidence, and wrinkled his freckled nose at his Dad.

“Why won’t Mummy heal it?”

“Because this—” his Dad said, pointing at the small wound, “—is a lesson you need to learn.”

“This?” James raised his finger and peeked curiously under it. Lessons were supposed to be wise. There was nothing wise about scabs. They just itched and then stung when he scratched them. “This is a lesson?”

“Yes. If you ever find yourself without magical aid, you should know how to look after yourself,” his Dad explained. “Besides, this is how Muggles do it. They heal without magic, so they have to do things we don’t. Like taking care of their scabs; use Band-Aids and other things.”

“Why? Why do they have to do all that, Dad?”

“Because they can get sick if they don’t.”

“They get sick?” James asked, his eyes widening. His hands flew to his shirt collar, fiddling with the soft cotton rim in his worry. “If they pull off their scabs?”

“Sometimes, yes, because it gets infected.” Dad’s lips curved into a little smile. “But usually they just get scars if they pull off the scabs.”

James pointed at his Dad’s forehead. “Like that one?”

For a split second, his Dad’s face contorted into something James would never have the misfortune of understanding. His Dad’s green eyes hardened and he looked tired all of a sudden. James dropped his hand, thinking that maybe he had said something rude. His Mummy was always telling him to mind his manners.

“Are you mad, Daddy?”

“No,” said his Dad, petting his head. A soft smile crossed his features again. “No, I’m not. You just reminded me… I’ve had this scar for so long that I forget about it sometimes.”

“How’d you get it?” James asked. “Did you trip like me?”

“You’ll know someday, James,” his Dad said, the hardness returning to his eyes, “Someday, when you’re older. For now, let’s work on healing, okay? You shouldn’t waste a chance at healing.”

James blinked and frowned up at his Dad. It felt like there was more to his words, and it made James feel like he was missing out on something. But he couldn’t guess what, so he just nodded the way his Dad wanted him to. It was nothing to worry about, James decided, if it could wait until he was older.

“All right.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2015. Posting it now. The prompt was “You can’t heal if you keep pulling off the scab.” from writeworld, my favourite writing and prompt blog back when it was still active. (It's still my favourite, actually.)


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